Honorable Lies
by katbybee
Summary: WINNER 2017 BRONZE PBA-SHORT DRAMA: Sometimes someone is much more than they appear to be... What if Carter is just following orders...? My very first foray into this fandom. Please read and review. I don't own a thing, at least, not in this universe... ;-)


Honorable Lies

April 7, 1943

Lies. It seems ever since the recruiter came to the reservation I have been telling nothing but lies. It's hard on a guy's conscience after a while, even if he has a really good reason. Even if I promised I would never ever tell _anybody_ , I feel like if I don't tell somebody, I'm gonna bust. So I decided to write it down, just once, and then burn this paper immediately without showing it to anyone. I just got my Red Cross package with my cigarettes and matches, so it won't be a problem. Time is not an issue, because I am currently in the cooler for making Klink mad one too many times by talking too much, I guess. I managed to keep one pack of cigarettes and my matches with me. I am here for at least a week, because Klink gave me 30 days. The Colonel will probably be able to talk him down. Newkirk smuggled the paper and pencil in to me after I asked for it. Schultz knows about it, but of course, he saw nothing, as usual. For once, solitude is nice…

Of course, I am not a full-blood Ogallala Sioux. Anybody with eyes can see that. My rightful name really is Little Deer Who Runs Swift and Sure Through Forest. My father was half-white, or in our language, _wasichu_ , and my mother was full Lakota. I just happen to end up looking like my dad, which is okay, because he is a pretty good guy most of the time, unless he gets mad, then whoo boy, you better run! Anyway, I did grow up in Bullfrog, North Dakota, but it was on the reservation near the town. I never did see the need to say that to any of my friends.

Anyway, back to the thing about the lies. I said that because here are all the lies I have been telling since the special recruiter got me into the army:

I am a pilot. I am kind of dumb. I am clumsy. I never remember anything right. I can get lost in a paper bag. I am naïve. My main talent is for impersonations and blowing stuff up. I am currently 22 years old.

None of those things are true. Sometimes I wish they were. If they were, maybe I wouldn't be here. But then again, I wouldn't be here…if that makes any sense at all!

I mean, I am glad I met the guys, but I would much rather we met someplace else, you know? Like maybe at a circus or a fair or something…that would have been totally great. But that didn't happen, so now we are doing what we do. And it was here that I found out I was good at impersonations. I never knew that before. Blowing up stuff and starting fires, I knew about. I blew up stuff in chemistry all the time. I never meant to, though…it just kind of happened. I blew up some parts of my high school and, boy, did they get mad! That was one of the times I meant about running when my dad gets mad…that was when I was fourteen.

Okay, so the lies. I am really glad nobody is reading this, because this part is really hard. I guess I will just take them in order. How does it make it okay to lie and act like you do even though you're being ordered to? I've never figured that out, and I guess that's why I have a hard time with this whole thing. But that's what I signed up for…

For once I am going to drop the mask I have been wearing for so many years and just be who I really am for just a little while. It will be a welcome relief. So, now, this is the real Andrew J. Carter (My _wasichu_ name) speaking.

I am a pilot—Nope. Not at all. Never. That's why I never talk much about it…just about wanting to get back to my boys; but I never get really specific.

I am kind of dumb—Far from it! I have taken several IQ tests and they have all rated me high, close to the genius range. The dumb thing is just an act, to protect my cover, which will be explained.

I am clumsy—Again, part of the act. The more inept and ineffective, I can appear, the easier it makes my job…no one expects much out of me.

I never remember anything right—Actually, I have an eidetic memory…I remember everything I see or read. Which helps when it comes to my mission, because believe me; I have a _ton_ of stuff to memorize! Also because of my heritage, we are trained very young in oral history, and in methods of oral memory.

I can get lost in a paper bag—Totally false…I have never once gotten lost while on a mission, although I have made it seem as if I have, in order to maintain my cover.

I am naïve…I am probably the least naïve man in this camp. Since all of the men in camp are captured fliers, none of them have seen combat up close and personal the way I have. I was out in combat for close to a year and a half before I was captured. I know Newkirk wonders what my nightmares are about…I usually make up some stupid tall tale. I can never tell him the truth…even if I wanted to, which I don't. I couldn't bear seeing that stuff the first time, let alone forcing those images on someone I care about. Besides, I'm forbidden to talk about it anyway.

But thank God, naïve is an easy cover to maintain, because I just simply created the character of "Andy," the kid brother to every man in Barracks Two, and I just stay in that character most of the time. I actually have great affection for him, and sometimes wish I really was him. He is the happy-go-lucky optimist I wish I could truly be.

My main talent is for impersonations and blowing stuff up—Well, here we go…I will let you in on one of my biggest secrets: while I am good at those two things, my main talent is what got me into the army in the first place. I am fluent in Lakota. It's what the Special Recruiter who came to the reservation was looking for when he spotted me. I became a Code Talker. There were seven of us who signed up for the training that day. My parents were not happy. The army was ecstatic. I lied about my age to get in. I think the recruiter knew it, but they were desperate for Indians for their program, so they let several of us slide. Which leads me to the biggest lie of all:

I am currently 22 years old—I know they had no idea I was only fifteen at the time. I was recruited in 1940. It's 1943…you do the math. Yeah…Col. Hogan would probably have a fit if he realized I just turned eighteen in February…

So…on to my mission. I was working as a code talker in Germany when I was captured and eventually ended up at Stalag 13. What my job consisted of was to send messages in my native language over the field radio back to the base, and there somebody would decode it. The Germans can't break the code, because they can't fathom how Lakota is spoken, so it works great. There are lots of other tribes who also sent warriors out to do the same thing. Like I said, six other guys from my tribe took the training with me. I don't know where most of them got sent or what happened to them. I did hear that Davy Running Horse was somewhere near Dusseldorf last I heard.

Anyway, our position got overrun. I destroyed my equipment so the Germans couldn't capture it. When London realized my capture was imminent, they ordered me to get myself to Stalag 13 so they could get me back to London. It took me three months to do it, but I finally made it. I spent a couple of months in another Stalag before I escaped and made it to 13. I was wearing a Lieutenant's uniform when I showed up at Stalag 13, because I traded uniforms with a guy at the first Stalag so he could stage _his_ escape. That sure made for a lot of confusion later!

I was actually sent back to London at that point. I was given a choice. I could go home, or I could continue as a code talker, but with a difference…I could expand my mission to include espionage. I chose to go back, I was briefed about Col. Hogan and this operation, and my cover of the inept "Sgt. Andy Carter" was created. I would answer to Col. Hogan for his missions, but to my superior in London for my code talker assignments. And that is what I have done. I use the equipment in the tunnel to complete my assignments. I have even used Klink's equipment on occasion. I am much stealthier than any of them realize. I work directly for British Intelligence, though my superior actually answers to Washington.

And I must keep all of this a complete secret for the rest of my life. I have signed document after document agreeing to do so. But I know now, having gotten it all off my chest, a confession of sorts, I will be able to do so, no matter what happens to me. I hope to survive this war, and go home. But if I do not, at least I know that in some small way I have made a difference.

I can hear noises in the tunnel. Hopefully, it's LeBeau, because I'm starving!

I suddenly feel in desperate need of a cigarette.

Sincerely,

Andrew J. Carter

~End~

A/Ns: The inspiration for this story about the Lakota Code Talkers is based in fact. During WW2, the Navajo Nation was the most famous nation involved, but there were sixteen other nations involved as well. The fact that some of the code talkers were underage and lied about their age to get into the service as young as fifteen was also a fact. None of them were ever allowed to talk about what they did for their country until the missions were declassified many years later. Some never spoke of it at all. Honors for their service have been given to a number of these servicemen, mostly posthumously. There are several excellent resources on this subject on Google, but I don't recommend Wikipedia for serious research.

Also, just a final note… _wasichu_ is one of several proper spellings for "white man" in Lakota. In this case, it is properly used to refer to his white name. I have carefully researched this issue, and learned there are seven Lakota dialects…I chose Ogallala; since that is the area the character is from.


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